A Corset for a Cutlass
by GoldenHorizon
Summary: When Captain Jack Sparrow goes to New Providence to celebrate his latest escape, he meets up with Anne Bonny, a restless wife waiting for her husband to return home... RR please
1. Two Paths Cross

A Corset for a Cutlass  
  
Disclaimer: I called Disney, they said "no." Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top? "No." I even sent them flowers... "no." So a certain captain *ahem* that I find a very amusing character to write about, does not belong to me... Jack, it doesn't have to be this way! *sob...*  
  
A/N: Anne Bonny is a real historical figure. A real pirate, that is. If you want to find out more about her, go to www.piratesinfo.com. There's two interesting articles, though the one with the, er, more intriguing name I find to give better information. I admire a woman who can stand up for herself in a world of men, and that's partly the reason why I'm writing this fic... The other part is because Jack Sparrow's just so darn cool! *Jack: Aww, thank you, love! See, no can resist me.* Right... I apologize before-hand for any out-of-character-ness. Here's mini Jack-hats (hey that rhymes) for everyone and some cyber popcorn. Bon appetite!  
  
All lyrics used will have credit given to their original authors.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter One: Two Paths Cross  
  
'My light shall be the moon  
  
And my path- the ocean.  
  
My guide the morning star  
  
I sail home to you.'  
  
--From "Exile"  
  
Enya  
  
"Watermark"  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow swaggered down a wide cobblestone street in New Providence (A/N: Present-day Nassau) gazing lazily at the sky and walking off the remainder of his hangover from the heavy drinking the night before. In his opinion, there had been need to celebrate. He had once again slipped his way out from a certain death by the gallows, with much thanks to the Turner lad. Yes, when Jack saw Will again he would need to thank him; he was very much in the boy's debt. And, he thought, with a smile on his lips, he had escaped from right under the nose of that duff of a Commodore. Commo-BORE is more like it, he laughed to himself. But Will had Elizabeth now; she was all he ever needed, there'd be no pirating for that boy. Pity, though, as he would probably have the same ability as his father...  
  
His unsteady walk was interrupted by the neighs of two horses as they reared suddenly in front of him, their deadly hooves inches from his face. He stumbled backwards and landed on the dusty street. The coach stopped just in front of the pirate, and the driver glared at Jack from under his hat.  
  
"'Ey, you there! Watch where you're walking, you cad!" he exclaimed. Jack cocked his hat at the man from where he sat on the hard cobblestone ground. His attention was suddenly drawn to the elegant white door of the coach, which was opening. A brown buckled shoe came into view on the platform which wealthy people used to step in and out. Next an inch of white petticoat appeared before a light blue skirt slipped over it. Finally the person stepped all the way out of the coach onto the ground.  
  
Jack felt his mouth dropping open as he swallowed a remark about snobbish old women in coaches, because the woman standing before him, a smirk plastered on her face and her hand resting on her hip, was definately not old. She was young, with a complexion like new cream and long-lashed eyes the color of the ocean water on a clear summer morning. Her dress matched her eyes, which were now studying him with mild curiosity.  
  
"What are you doing down there, mate? The mean ol' horsies scare you?" she teased, with a slight Irish accent. Despite all her proper clothes and the way her light auburn hair was pinned and curled and weaved on the top of her head, Jack thought she seemed different than the wealthy girls he had encountered. Except, of course, for Elizabeth. Stupid git had to go and burn all the rum... He mentally shook himself, vanishing the memory.  
  
"I was checking the state of the cobblestones. Quite a bit hard on me rump, actually," he finally said, getting up and rubbing at his bottom for emphasis. The girl's expression remained that of slight boredom, but her eyes narrowed in internal laughter. Ah, so she's got a soft spot for humor, that's good to know, Jack noted. The lady held out her hand and asked, "And who is this man I've had the pleasure to meet this morning?" Jack took the soft hand in his own and kissed it to his lips.  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service," he said, releasing it. She looked down the length of the land to the harbor, the sunight gleaming on the water, her eyes finally stopping at the only ship docked, some feet out from the coast: the Black Pearl. They widened, taking in the full magnificence of the ship.  
  
"Aye, that's mine," Jack said. She started, not being aware that he had followed her gaze.  
  
"That's quite a ship, Captain," she said. "Obviously to obtain such a fine vessel you would need hundreds of pounds of coin. You do not look like you have many shillings to spare." She glanced at his filthy pirate clothes. Oh, right, he thought, the lass is probably used to such finery and cleanliness as well-to-do folks can obtain. "So you either are wealthier than you look, or you stole it." He barely caught the last comment. She smiled, impressed by the fact that she had been right.  
  
"Ah, who's the mysterious lass that questions the legality of my beautiful ship?" he asked. She curtsied unsteadily, pulling the heavy layers of fabric out from her body.  
  
"My name is Anne. That's all you need to know."   
  
"Anne, is it? Well, then I suppose if you aren't giving me your name you 'ave a very good reason not to, aye?" he replied. Her smile disappeared as she realized that he was playing at her own game.  
  
"I have nothing to hide! Bonny, my last name's Bonny."  
  
"Anne Bonny... The name sounds familiar," Jack said. She nodded and walked forward a step.  
  
"Perhaps you've heard of how I stabbed my servant girl in the neck for mouthing off about my illegitimacy. Or how I punched out the two front teeth of the sister-in-law of the former governor of Jamaica?" Ah, now there's something interesting, thought Jack. No messing around with this girl.  
  
"No, I haven't, but please, enlighten me," he said, gesturing with his hands for her to continue. She looked up at the driver's seat at the front of the carriage, surprised to find it empty. Apparently he had gone off looking for new mounts.  
  
"When that fool McGuinness returns, I shall indeed take you somewhere more comfortable and tell you all you need to know, Captain Sparrow. For now, if that truly is your name, I'd like to hear more about you. There are more tales hanging around your name than there are Brits in Port Royal, and that's saying something," she said, leaning against the carriage and crossing her arms. Jack inhaled with pride, pleased to be able to once again brag about the severly overexaggerated stories of his doings. Seriously, sea turtles?!  
  
"What would you like to know?" Anne's eyes narrowed and a smile played on her lips.  
  
"Everything."   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Oooh, the suspense! Ha ha! Read on... 


	2. Spilt Tea

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Disney now put a restraining order on me and they said if I go on their property one more time it's the slammer for me... They didn't say anything about phone calls, though... ;)  
  
A/N: I've got my Jack Sparrow muse sitting in the chair across from me and giving me ideas about what to write.   
  
Jack: Nothing cozy for this chapter?  
  
Me: No...   
  
Jack: Darn, I was so looking forward to it!  
  
Me: You can wait, you stupid pig.   
  
Jack: I am not a pig!  
  
Me: You're not?  
  
Jack: No... Pigs happen to be pink.  
  
Me: Right, well, on with the story!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Two: Spilt Tea  
  
It was exactly twenty minutes later that Jack stared out through the window of the coach, feeling the white leather seat rattling as the wheels slid over a bump in the road. Anne sat across from him, her legs crossed and her arms hugging her middle, not exactly the proper way for a woman to sit.  
  
"So tell me more about the Black Pearl," she said. "How did you get your ship back?" Jack closed his eyes, remembering the sea breeze on his face and the feeling of the rough wood of the wheel beneath his hands, as he grasped it for the first time in ten years. Ten very long years... Suddenly he was back to that July morning, only a month ago, with the battlement of Fort Charles and the figures of Will and Elizabeth fading into the distance, pressed into one in a long-awaited kiss...  
  
"Mr. Sparrow!" Jack opened his eyes and surprised to find the enclosed space of the coach around him instead of the open ocean and the deck of his great ship.  
  
"What, love?" he asked. Anne rolled her eyes, and he proceeded to tell her about his latest adventure. She leaned in as his voice grew lower, totally engrossed in the tale. He was exaggerating a little. No harm in adding spice to the tale.  
  
"...and there were these Chinese midgets-" the door of the carriage opened. The driver, McGuinness, held out a hand for Anne.  
  
"I can very well manage to get out of this blasted thing myself; I don't need any help!" she said, and pushed right past him. Jack went out behind her. They had arrived at the drive of a large white house, overshadowed by trees and bright perennial flowers. Before they even reached the front door, a magnificant mahogany creation, it was opened by a butler. Anne led Jack up a staircase and through several more doors, until they entered what appeared to be a sitting room. The butler asked to take Jack's coat and hat, but he declined. Anne, however, gave the portly little man her own white hat, which had yellow roses all around the brim. Then she told a servant girl to bring tea and sandwiches.  
  
She sat down on a beige couch, and gestured for Jack to sit on the chair across from her. He looked around in awe. The only house he had seen bigger than this was the Swann mansion, but that he had only seen from afar.   
  
"I reckon your father is a wealthy man, love. This is quite a place," he remarked. She fumbled with her skirt, her brow furrowed.  
  
"My father lives in Charles Town. He... he disowned me," she said quietly.  
  
"Why'd he do that? And how'd you get such a nice house?" Anne looked up, and her eyes seemed far away, as though remembering.  
  
"My father disowned me, because... because of whom I married. This is my husband's house, provided by those, those bastards in the government," she said. She's married? Jack thought. He thought she seemed somewhat odd to bring him to her house when her husband was who-knows-where.  
  
"Where is your hubby, then?" he asked. She gestured toward the window.  
  
"Out on another one of his sea voyages. Hunting pirates." Uh-oh.  
  
"Hunting pirates, you say? I've heard New Providence was filled with them," he said. Anne nodded.  
  
"Yes. James, my husband, was once a pirate, and you, I believe, are a pirate." Jack sat straight in his chair and tried to decide whether confessing to Anne would earn him a prison sentence. He had already told her his name, after all.  
  
"Don't worry, Mr. Sparrow, most of my friends are pirates. I'm not going to turn you in; I merely wanted to chat," she added, laughing.  
  
"Oh, that's good, because-"  
  
"DAMMIT!" A servant girl had accidentally spilled tea in Anne's lap. "You clumsy oaf! Be more careful next time!" she shouted. The girl looked positively terrified.  
  
"Yes, madam, I promise I will. I am so very sorry, it won't happen a-"  
  
"Fine! Just bloody get me some new clothes! From James's closet," Anne interrupted, waving the girl away. She turned back to Jack. "Now, what were you saying again?" Jack wiped the stunned look from his face.  
  
"I said, 'Oh, that's good' because," he said, and leaned in closer, whispering, "I am a pirate." The look of relief on her face was unmistakable.  
  
"Excellent! You need not worry; James will be gone for quite some time." She said, and lifted her teacup to drink. Jack realized that there was a teacup before him as well, and he picked it up and sipped cautiously at it. He spit it out.  
  
"Eeerghh!" he gasped. "It's burning me throat!" Anne burst into laughter, and soon she was laughing so hard she clutched her stomach and her face turned red.  
  
"Never had tea before, I presume?" she snorted. Jack set the cup down.  
  
"Do you happen to have any rum?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Jack the Muse held me at gunpoint and said I had to put rum in... I hope he chokes on it... 


	3. A Pirate and a Proposition

Disclaimer: Honestly, if you don't know already, you must have a memory problem!   
  
A/N: Do you like? I hope you do! Here's juice boxes and rum-flavored cookies for everyone!   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Three: A Pirate and a Proposition  
  
The sun had already begun to set hours later when the two were still in Anne's sitting room. She had ordered a servant to run to the nearest tavern and pick up a few bottles. Anne was wearing breeches and a white collared shirt, apparently taken from her husband's closet. She explained to Jack that they were much more comfortable than those "bloody dresses."  
  
"Sooo, I says... I says, 'Elizabeth, daaahhhling, it woulda neva worked betweeen uss," Jack slurred, as he told another story, already on his fourth glass of rum. Anna was quite sober, having not touched the stuff. A "drink of the Devil," she had called it. "An' then, I looked at Will's stoopid hat, with a biiigg pluumed feeeeaather, and I said, 'Niiiice haatt." He chuckled, the rum beginning to fog his brain. Anne looked at him worriedly.  
  
"Mr. Sparrow, are you sure you haven't had enough rum?" she asked. Jack held up his pointer finger and wagged it.  
  
"Nah, nah, I nnneeevvver have tooo much rrruuummm," he replied. "An' call mee Jaaa...John...Joe...Jerry...nooo...Jimminy..."  
  
"Jack?" she offered. He pointed at her and nodded drunkenly.  
  
"Yeah, thaaa'ss it. Jaaacckk!"  
  
"You have the most extraordinary adventures, Cap- Jack," Anne said wisfully, staring down at her steaming cup of tea.  
  
"Ahhh, yeess, ppllentya adventuuurrresss," he said, setting down the bottle.  
  
"Wish I could go out an do things like that. But, noooo, James would never hear of such a thing!" she fumed, parlty to herself. Jack leaned forward and looked right into her eyes.  
  
"I've got a proposition for ye, Ms. Bonny," he said, his hands moving as he talked. "You want ta get away from here, I can tell. So... what say you to this? We put a hat on that pretty little head of yours, and a coat, and I take ye out to my ship and we sails away into the horizon, aye? Plenty of adventure! What say you ta that?" Anne considered his suggestion. Finally she put down her teacup and rose from the couch.   
  
"You want me to dress like a man?" she asked. Jack nodded at the men's clothes she was already wearing.  
  
"My crew thinks women onboard are bad luck. And anyway, if you want to get off this island without anyone knowing, you'll have to make sure no one will recognize you," he said. She stood up and led Jack to what he supposed was her bedroom, with plain white bedding and gray walls. The colors were somewhat depressing. She went to a door on the side of the room and opened it. There were men's clothes inside.   
  
"Well? Help me pick out something!" she said.   
  
"Alright, the shirt and the breeches are fine, but we need a jacket so's the crew can't see, uh..." he left that sentence unfinished, and pulled out a plain blue coat similar to his own. Anne put it on and found a slip of cloth to use as a bandana to tie her hair up in, and a plain gray wide-brimmed hat. Jack helped her apply kohl to her eyes, and they found gloves to cover her hands.  
  
"Ah, you look perfect, love!" he exclaimed happily. She looked down at herself and smiled. "Just be careful not to talk much. Your voice is too pretty to be a man's."  
  
"What about a sword and a pistol?" Anne asked.  
  
"Aye, we'll need to find a Blacksmith..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
And in only a few minutes they had left the house. They walked, of course, having gone out the back door. They wanted the servants to believe that they were still in the house, because even they Jack and Anne couldn't trust. They walked through the dirt alleys and cobblestone streets, occasionally passing vendors selling everything, ranging from food to bronze elephant statuettes, and wenches hitching up their skirts, trying to get passing coaches to stop. Anne shook her head at them. Jack even watched in amusement as she walked right up to a whore and her pimp, tapped the girl on the shoulder, and said that her moaning was quite annoying and unneccessary.  
  
"I don't know if ye should have done that, love," Jack said as they continued on their way.  
  
"It was true! That lass needs drama classes, if you ask me," Anne replied. Finally they saw a shop that said "Blacksmith" on a sign on the door. They went inside and found a man making a horseshoe.   
  
"Excuse me?" Jack asked. The blacksmith didn't seem to notice him, and kept pounding at the horseshoe. "Excuse me?!" Anne stepped up beside Jack.  
  
"EXCUSE ME???!!!!" she shouted. The man stopped pounding and looked up at them, startled.  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon, gentlemen, I didn't hear ye," he said. Good, he thinks Anne is a boy, thought Jack.  
  
"Yes, uh... I need to have a cutlass made for my friend here. A really nice one," Jack said. The blacksmith frowned and wiped his grease-stained hands on a towel.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but I ain't makin' no more swords today," he said. Jack pulled out a pouch of gold coins from his pocket, dangling it between his fingers.  
  
He said, his gold teeth gleaming in the moonlight coming through the window, "I can pay you quite... handsomely."  
  
The blacksmith stared at the pouch, and by the look in his eyes, he was contemplating whether or not to accept Jack's offer.  
  
"Alright, I'll make one for ye. It'll take a while, so come back later." Jack clapped his palms together and bowed slightly to the man, and then he and Anne left the shop.  
  
"Money can get you anything, love, remember that," he said happily.  
  
"I certainly shall."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Sorry for the shortness of chapters, but I really want to make sure I leave off in a good place. How bout a proposition for YOU, O great reader! See that button right there, the one that says "Submit Review?" Yeah? Well I think you know what to do... *wink* *wink wink* Now, I'm off to go take my step-dad's "Super-special-no-touching-or-you're-dead-gotta-have-this stash of Budweiser from the clutches of my Sparrow Muse. I swear, he's a completely hopeless alchoholic!  
  
Jack: Nooo, not the beer! My beer! mine!  
  
Me: Jack, give it to me...  
  
Jack: No! You can't have it! *clutches case protectively*  
  
Me: Don't make me have to use this... *pulls out a can of Bud-LIGHT  
  
Jack: Ahhhh! Not good, not good, please, not the LOW-CALORY kind!   
  
Now, while I try to coax the beer off of him, go review! Next chapter will be up as soon as I find inspiration... Not like my "muse" is being a very good help... 


	4. A French Experience

Disclaimer: I own nothing... My house is a box, my bed is a ten year old issue of Weekly World News ("Chipmunk Gives Birth to Alien Twins") and my cat is a stuffed pillow with glass eyeballs glued on...  
  
A/N: Yes, finally I managed to take the beer from Jack! I have to keep an eye on him at all times. Unfortunately, now he's started looking through my "Seventeen" and "Teen People" magazines, and is about to tear out a Christina Aguilera picture (which somewhat resembles her clothes-that-are-hardly-clothes look on the "Stripped" cover...) Maybe he'd like to hear a little "Dirrty." *rolls eyes* Men...   
  
Well, enough of this! Keep reading, my friend. And, because of Jack's constant whining, I've added a little "coziness." (His term, not mine!) He wanted a blond... Well, there'll be more "coziness" in later chapters, I assure you!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Four: A French Experience  
  
Jack led Anne through the dark streets, the sky dark with no stars, and the faint ghost of the moon shining out from a wisp of cloud.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked. Jack paused to sniff the air, and gave no answer. Then he rounded a corner and they were in an even smaller alleyway.  
  
"Jack?"   
  
He continued to ignore her question, and quickened his pace. She could barely see the back of his head, but the clunk of his boots on the cobblestones and the rustles of the beads in his hair and the coins in his pocket made it quite easy for her to follow him. Anne sighed, grabbed the back of his coat, and slammed him against the wall of a building beside them.  
  
"Tell me right this instant where the hell we're going you bloody bastard, or I promise you yer mustache won't be lookin' too curly!" she growled. He chuckled nervously (not that he was REALLY afraid of her).  
  
"He he, easy on the goods, love-" her finger was in his face, pointing at him threateningly.  
  
"I am not a 'LOVE!' I am no one's LOVE! So you will either call me Ms. Bonny or Anne, or I will rip out your tongue and feed it to the gulls!"   
  
"Alright, alright, if you insist, lo-Ms. Bonny," Jack replied. She stepped back from him and smiled.  
  
"So... Where was it we were going?"  
  
"Ah, let me tell you, I can smell a tavern a mile away. That's where I'M going; you may wander about wherever your little black heart desires. But if you'll take my advice, Anne, you'll stay with me. 'Tis not safe for a woman to be out on the streets alone at night."   
  
"Not safe for a woman, eh? Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Sparrow, 'woman' means nothing at all to me," she said, turned on her heel, and strutted down the street in the opposite direction they had been walking. He stared after her a moment, trying to decide what she meant by her last statement, then decided there were more important things to do.   
  
"Me rum's waiting!" he said to himself.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jack sat at a table in La Coucher du Soleil, a tavern hidden in the dark corner of an alley by the dock, but, as should have been evident by the sign, it was a French tavern. Not exactly the best thing when Jack spoke not a word of the language. This problem was clear right when he tried asking for a drink.  
  
"Bonsoir, Monsieur," said the rather attractive young barmaid. "Qu'est-ce que je peux vous offrir?" Jack stared blankly at her. (A/N:Translation: Good evening, Mister. What can I get for you?)  
  
"Uh..." The blond girl stuck out a hip and put a hand on it, gazing at him boredly.  
  
"Pardon? Parlez-vous Français?" she asked. (A/N: Translation: Excuse me? Do you speak French?)  
  
"I have no idea what you're saying, love," Jack said.   
  
"Je ne comprends rien," Blondie sighed, obviously getting impatient. (A/N: Translation: I don't understand a word you're saying.  
  
"RUM! I WANT RUM!" Jack shouted. She laughed and nodded.  
  
"Oui, monsieur, rhum." The girl walked away. Jack leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on the table, trying to relax. The girl came back soon and poured the bottle of liquid into a pewter tankard*, sliding it over to him. He took a swig and gestured to the chair next to him.  
  
"Take a seat, darling," he said. The girl understood and sat down.  
  
"Je m'appelle Nathalie," she said. She was wearing a lot of dark eyeliner that made her light blue eyes pop out.   
  
"Amusing," Jack said out loud. The barmaid, Nathalie, raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
"S'amuser?" she said. "Oui, s'amuser..." (A/N: Apparently she misunderstood his "amusing" for "s'amuser": "enjoy yourself.") She made a comfortable spot for herself in his lap and began kissing him. I'll make a note that these French strumpets are quite good, Jack thought. For some reason, whether it was the rum or the, ahem, situation that he was in, but he suddenly felt his thoughts drifting to Anne. Where was she, and was she alright? His pause caused Nathalie to momentarily take her lips away from his.  
  
"Non bien?" she said, frowining.  
  
"No, you're really good at this love!" Jack replied, catching her meaning. But no matter how much he tried to vanish it from his mind, the thought kept coming back. He needed to look for Anne. He gently pushed the girl off his lap and stood up, taking a few shillings from his pocket and throwing them on the table for her. Then he put on his coat and hat, and walked out into the night.  
  
"Bonne nuit, Capitaine Sparrow!" the French wench called. (A/N: See, I'm so good at rhyming!)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Sorry for the shortness of chapter, I promise to get back to the nice stuff now. Let's see if Jack liked it.  
  
Me: So, what did you think?  
  
Jack: That's it? (BTW, Johnny Depp's girlfriend/wife is French, which is partly why I thought of it... The other part is that I'm taking French and wanted to add a little of the language because it's so beautiful)  
  
Me: PG-13, remember? I don't particularly like writing romance. I'm only doing it in this story because I have to, HISTORY requires it!  
  
Jack: I love history!  
  
*Pewter is made of lead, a metal that can be bad if it gets in a person's blood. Since Jack was constantly at taverns and pubs and drinking from pewter tankards, I formed the opinion that he might have gone "mad" from the lead. This scientific notion is thanks to my Earth Science teacher, Miss S.! Wooo! Everyone clap! And review! 


	5. Jack's Lesson

Disclaimer: JACK SPARROW IS MINE!!! MWA HA HA HA HA!!!!! *Six police cars marked "Disney" pull in front of my house, sirens blaring. D.S.N.Y. people wearing Mickey Mouse ears exit the cars* Alright, FINE, spoil my fun!  
  
A/N: Do you like it so far? Oui? non? If you don't then just stop reading NOW and save us all a lot of trouble. Thank you!   
  
Okay, mes amis, I know you've got a dozen questions! Will Anne and Jack make it out of New Providence? Where is Anne, anyway? And is Jack ever going to stop being such a pimp? (I confess, I made that one up) Keep reading to find out, 'cus I'M NOT TELLING! Expect some minor, okay, major, kicking of a *certain* captain's arse. ;)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Five: Jack's Lesson  
  
Jack walked nervously through the streets, looking around for any kind of movement. He hadn't really expected Anne to wander off like that. At most, he had thought that maybe she would have shown up after a few minutes, having cooled her temper. But no, she hadn't, and here he was, looking for here, when there were a lot of better things he could be doing. Lass probably got herself killed, or...  
  
"AAAIIIIEEEE!!" Suddenly something collided into Jack and sent him face-first into the dirty street. He felt the sharp blade of a sword against the back of his neck and Anne's laughter.  
  
"Did I scare you, Mr. Sparrow?" she said. Jack struggled but she had him pinned down.   
  
"If you could get off me, Ms. Bonny, I'd be much obliged. My nose is being squashed," he muttered. The weight lifted from his back and he got to his feet. He looked to where his hat had fallen off and landed on the street. The spot was empty and hat-free. But it had been there only a second ago! Where-? He turned back to Anne. His hat, HIS HAT, was cocked jauntily on her head, and she grinned at him widely.  
  
"Hand over the hat and nobody gets hurt," he said warningly. She snorted and pulled it down over her eyes, like he wore it, and mimicked his pose. "I'm not jesting, love... Give it to me right now." He reached out a hand for it.   
  
"What hat? This hat?" Anne said stupidly, mimicking his voice now too. Jack didn't find it funny.   
  
"I'm not playing any games here, missy. You hand it over or I won't be so nice anymore."   
  
She snorted and walked toward him, moving her hands and swaggering like him.  
  
"You were never nice, Mr. Sparrow," she said pointedly. No, I'm not, and I'd love to show you just by how much, he thought angrily.   
  
"Let's pretend for a moment I'm you, and you're a poor, wretched creature who has nothing at all, and must resort to the most unsavory of things to obtain a few pence. Can you imagine how those girls must feel, Jack, when you go around doing things like THIS?" she jerked his collar forward and pressed his lips to hers. What the hell is she doing? he thought, and then suddenly "actually, she could compete with that French lass" drifted into his mind. She broke away roughly and left him staggering backwards.   
  
"Did you like that? I don't think those tavern maids do, when you go around doing whatever you want with them!" she said.   
  
"What makes you worry about what I do with whores, love?" he asked. She glared at him, a steaming fire in her eyes that made them glow with anger.   
  
"Because I know how they feel."   
  
"You were a WENCH?!" Jack spat out. Anne slapped him, which knocked him off his feet, it was so hard.  
  
"NO, I was not! When I was fourteen years old some rogueish cheat tried to... to assault me, alright? And you know what I did to him?" She was really in a rage now.  
  
"What, pray tell?"   
  
"I thrashed him to nearly an inch of his life and left him helpless in bed for three weeks! The lad still has somewhat of a limp," she replied, and grinned at the thought of the lasting effect. Jack felt sweat forming on his forehead. This was definately not a girl to cross. He stood up and looked sideways at her. His hat had fallen off her head and he snatched it up.  
  
"Come on now, Mr. Sparrow, and I hope you've learned something."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: I'm sorry for it being so short, but I had to put that in! For all the respectable (and not so respectable but still human beings) women out there who have been hurt, this is for you! *big bear hugs!* And for all the crude men/players/pimps out there, this is for YOU! *rude single-fingered gesture* AHEM!  
  
Well, glad we've gotten that cleared up!  
  
Jack: ....  
  
Me: Didja like that chapter, Jack?  
  
Jack: ....  
  
Me: Excuse me?  
  
Jack: ....  
  
Me: What was that? I can't hear you!  
  
Jack: ...I think I'll have some more rum... 


	6. Sail Away

Disclaimer: I learned in Practical Arts (dumbest class ever) that Walt Disney had a learning disorder. My teacher said that if he had given up at school, we wouldn't Disneyland, or "Beauty and the Beast", or "Pirates of the Caribbean", or.... "Pirates of the Caribbean!!!" *sniff* I think she was just trying to get us to stay in school, but what a TRAGEDY that would have been! Thank you, Mr. Spirit-of-Walt-Disney for being a good boy and staying in school! But I'm still mad at your stupid company for not letting me have Jack! Or.... any of the other characters...  
  
A/N: I saw on the TV-GUIDE channel that POTC won some kind of best movie award thing. Yay!!!  
  
I realize I'm keeping you all waiting. Go on, read! And see, you got a free history lesson! BTW, picture this song through Jack's mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Six: Sail Away   
  
'Let me sail, let me sail, let me Orinoco flow,  
  
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Tripoli,  
  
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,  
  
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the Yellow Sea.  
  
From Bissau to Palau- in the shade of Avalon,  
  
From Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony,  
  
From Peru to Cebu hear the power of Babylon,  
  
From Bali to Cali- far beneath the Coral Sea.  
  
From the North to the South, from Ebudae unto Khartoum,  
  
From the deep sea of Clouds to the Island of the Moon,  
  
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,  
  
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.  
  
We can sail, we can sail...  
  
We can steer, we can near with Jack Sparrow at the wheel,  
  
We can sigh, say goodbye Will and his dependencies  
  
We can sail, we can sail...'  
  
--"Orinoco Flow" with *minor* changes by me  
  
"This is it, love. The Black Pearl," Jack announced proudly as the reached the ship. Its wooden body gleamed and the new white sails flapped gently in the wind.  
  
"Ho! It's the Captain! Drop down a rope!" came a voice from above. Anne pushed her hat lower over her face and tried to look as male as possible.   
  
"After you," Jack whispered, and winked. Anne took hold of the rope and started the climb. Jack followed suit and soon the two of them were on deck, facing the befuddled crew.  
  
"Who's that you got there, Jack?" asked Gibbs, looking at Anne. She tried hard not to blush, and ignored the sudden urge to vomit from the smell of the men. Jack threw an arm around her shoulder.  
  
"This here's our new cabin boy. Uh.... Weatherby!" he said brightly. Anne turned to him. "Weatherby?!" she mouthed. Jack grinned, remembering that it was the name of Governor Swann. Strange how that was the first one that popped into his head.  
  
"A cabin boy, eh? You, Weatherby, had any experience?" Gibbs said.   
  
"I can work hard," she replied, in her best male voice. Gibbs nodded, still suspicious, but decided that if Jack brought the boy on board, he must have had a reason to do so. At least he hadn't brought another bloody woman.  
  
Oh, how wrong he was.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Alright, lad, this is how you reef a sail." Jack stood balancing on the main topmast yard, holding an edge of the sheet. Anne stood across from him, clutching the wood of the mass and digging her shoe into the footrope. It was her second day, and she thought a better reward for going aboard would have been to scrub the deck. She tried not to look down at how high they were. She was a brave and fearless person on the ground, but she was the scarediest cat of them all in the air. She was only partly watching when Jack wrapped one of the cables around the canvas, tying it tightly to the mast, because the main part of her mind was trying not to get sick from the height. "Weatherby?" Jack asked, drawing at the name. Anne gritted her teeth and copied what he had done. The Captain nodded and looked down at Gibbs.  
  
"Oi! Gibbs, we got us here a natural!" he shouted. He turned back to Anne and grinned.   
  
"Why thank you, Captain," she said sarcastically. Jack began to climb down, stealthily as a monkey.  
  
"You're welcome." She glared after him, even though he couldn't see her. Bloody pirate, she thought. She grasped the footrope and slowly began the long descent, staring carefully at her feet and trying not to focus on the deck a hundred feet below. When she finally did reach the bottom she sighed in relief. Jack clapped her on the back, gave her another wink, and went to the helm. Some captains had their mates steer the wheel, but not Captain Jack Sparrow. No, he was too much in love with his ship to trust her to the hands of any other man. He had told her that the day before.  
  
'Lay one hand on me ship's helm and I'll kill you, savvy?' he had said. She had replied with a snort. 'I swear on my life, mate. I'm not fooling.'   
  
Anne suddenly jumped as a hand was lain on her shoulder. She turned around to see Gibbs.  
  
"My apologies for startlin' ye, lad," he replied. She nodded and glanced back to Jack, who was studying his compass.  
  
"The Captain really loves his ship," she mused. Gibbs nodded.  
  
"Aye, he used an entire bottle of good rum scrubbing it. The only thing he'd waste his rum on, I'm sure. Ye see, Weatherby, Jack Sparrow's got three loves: the Black Pearl, the open sea, and rum. His heart's as free as the gulls that fly overhead, can't be tamed by no woman. Sure, he has his fun once in a while, but, truth is, he knows he can never give up this life for a lass. You mark my words, lad, when that scoundrel Barbossa dropped him on a beach and sailed away with the Black Pearl, well, let's just say yer lucky you weren't marooned with him." Anne nodded, and Gibbs went on. "Spent ten years searchin', ten years planning revenge on the man who stole his love. I guess the thought kept him more or less sane." More or less, thought Anne. I'd vouch on less.   
  
"And about that compass..." she started. Gibbs chuckled heartily and clapped her on the back.  
  
"Ask no more of ol' Joshaemee today, lad."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: I really needed to explain about Jack. I just read this beautiful Fanfiction that nearly brought me to tears. "Wait For No Man," it's called. Read it! I order you! So I've been feeling in a "dramatic" mood, especially when listening to my "The Memory of Trees" Enya CD. I have two, the start of my collection. I think I'll add a little more mush, just for the sake of it... 


	7. Doré Soleil

Disclaimer: I belong to me (And my parents, legally). Anne belongs to Anne. Jack belongs to Disney. Disney belongs to greedy fat people who sit in chitz armchairs and force characters from their movies to do hard manual labor. I'll save you, Jack, don't worry!  
  
A/N: Drum roll please! Our first little bit of actual good clean mush!   
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Seven: Doré Soleil  
  
'Soft blue horizons  
  
Reach far into my childhood days  
  
As you are rising  
  
To bring me my forgotten ways.'  
  
--Lyrics from "On Your Shore"  
  
It was dusk. Jack looked out at the horizon, the blue-violet waves rocking gently against his Pearl and the golden-pink shades of the sunset lit up the gray sky. Sunsets on the sea were spectacular, dazzling, wild. He closed his eyes and sighed. He'd never admit it, but sometimes the beauty of the ocean mistress was so great she almost brought him to tears. He gripped the wood of the wheel tighter and felt the crevices and rough spots beneath his fingers. A bit more rum, he thought, to give 'er a shine.  
  
"Captain?" Jack opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Anne stood smiling, still a very convincing boy.   
  
"What is it, mate? Can't you see I'm busy?" She rolled her eyes and walked next to him.   
  
"I came out to see the sunset. Haven't missed one in ten years," she said.  
  
"Ten years? Ye must really like 'em then," Jack replied. Anne shrugged.  
  
"My mother loved them. When I was a babe she would take me out and we'd watch them together. Or, that's what my father told me."  
  
"You're using past tense. She died?" Anne gave him a glare from under her hat. He could be really insensitive sometimes.  
  
"Aye, when I was fourteen she passed away from fever. Her name was Mary Brennan, and she was once my father's maid.  
  
"So that makes you an illegitimate."   
  
"Thank you, Captain Insensitive!" she huffed, and went to stand before the taffrail. Suddenly she felt like crying, but she would never have admitted THAT.   
  
"Sorry, love," he apologized, knowing that everyone was below deck eating supper. She sniffed and ignored him. Jack stared at her, confused. Bloody woman, what did I do? he wondered. This mood was totally strange for Anne. When she still didn't say anything he approached her.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry, Anne, I didn't know you would-"  
  
"I would what, Mr. Sparrow?" she said, spinning around to face him. Something glistened for a moment on her cheek and then fell to the deck. "Start breaking down?"   
  
"No, no, love, I just-"  
  
"Yep, that's me, Anne Bonny, Hellcat Extraordinaire. Heartless and fierce. Well, I have feelings too!"  
  
"I know you do, but-"  
  
"And now here I am, trying to explain to YOU why I'm crying! When normally I wouldn't even give a fake tooth about what happened so many years ago, and then you go and-" Jack did the only thing he could think of to shut her up at the moment, which was grab her face in his hands and force their lips together. Anne's eyes opened wide, and, he thought with satisfaction, she became quiet as a mouse. He let her go, gently, and stepped back.  
  
"I don't normally go around doing things like that either, love," he explained. She blushed, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink. Anne Bonny was as tough as a man in many things, but romance was not something she knew much of, nor had much experience in. The expression on her face made Jack feel that he should expect a slap. It never came.  
  
Instead, Anne catapaulted into him so fast he stumbled backwards a few steps and nearly fell over the edge of the ship. She buried her head in his shoulder and her arms were tight around his neck. She sighed, and it seemed that all of her anxiety and sadness pressed onto him like a dead weight. Jack tried not to panic. He had no idea what to do, so he patted her awkwardly on the head and murmered "It's alright, Jack's here." She made a reply, though it was lost in the fabric of his coat.   
  
"What was that, love?" he asked. She lifted her head a bit.  
  
"I said 'Like that matters.'" She sniffled and sighed and wiped her eyes. Jack chuckled and rubbed her back.  
  
"There's my Anne!" he said happily. She pulled away from him and frowned.  
  
"Since when was I 'YOUR Anne?'" Jack could make no reply, because the next moment she turned on her heel and disappeared below deck.  
  
Jack shook his head and went back to the wheel, just as the last ray of golden light disappeared below the horizon.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: *Sigh...* Do you like this story so far? Please review! Pretty please? 


	8. La Soñadora

Disclaimer: I've said this a BILLION times already (okay, more like seven) so I'll say it for the last time: "Pirates of the Caribbean" is not mine, and neither is Jack! (though I'd like him to be) Anne Bonny is not my creation either.  
  
A/N: As you're probably already guessing from the last chappie, Jack and Anne are starting to feel... something for each other. So, this chapter might clear things up a little more...  
  
And for my first two reviewers, I'm putting their names SOMEWHERE in the story! I'll put in the first five, but that's it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Eight: La Soñadora  
  
'Whispering world,  
  
A sigh of sighs,  
  
The ebb and the flow  
  
Of the ocean tides,  
  
One breath, one word  
  
May end or may start  
  
A hope in a place of the lover's heart.'  
  
--Lyrics from "Hope Has a Place"  
  
"The Memory of Trees"  
  
Enya  
  
Anne stood in her small cabin, staring out of the window into the night, the bright, full moon glistening on the calm water. She had removed her hat, coat, and bandana, her long, wavy hair blowing softly as the breeze came in. She sighed and turned from the window, pacing the length of the room.   
  
How can one kiss make me feel this way? she thought. No man had ever had that effect on her. There had been men before, of course. She had thought she loved James. But that was when he was an adventure-loving, dirt-poor sailor. Now he had more money than he knew what to do with, and he was steadily growing dull and boring. There had also been Chidley Bayard, but that was mostly for his money. Now THAT relationship hadn't gone too well, Anne thought, remembering her, ah, "arguement" with the former governor of Jamaica's sister-in-law.   
  
But still, a kiss was a kiss, and that was nothing to Anne. Right?  
  
Meanwhile, Jack was pacing his own cabin, muttering out loud. A person standing outside the door (as Gibbs was at that very moment) might have thought that two people were having a conversation.  
  
"Now, why'd I have ta go and kiss her like that?"  
  
"You 'ad a reason to, she was spilling the waterworks all over your deck!"  
  
"True, but still, I should have gotten a slap for that."  
  
"Plenty of slaps in your lifetime, Jack ol' boy, and for things much worse than kissin'!"  
  
"Oh right... but Anne DIDN'T slap me, so what does that mean?"  
  
"Nothing, it means nothing! Just that she's too proper and sophisticated to give a dirty pirate a smack on the ol' noggin."  
  
"Yeah, fine. Time for sleep, I guess."  
  
Jack threw his coat and hat rather unceremoniously on the chair beside his bed, pulled off his sweat-stained shirt (A/N: Mental picture....) and lay on the bunk, staring up at the ceiling. But all he could think about was the feel of Anne's lips on his, the touch of her soft skin, and the adorable way she looked with a blush on her cheeks. Dammit, I'm going soft, thought Jack, before he fell asleep.   
  
Both of their dreams were interrupted by unwelcome visions. Anne dreampt of standing on the road before her father's home, the one in Charles Town. She was talking to someone, a man, but his face was hidden in the shadows. She knew what was happening; it was one of her nightly visits with James.   
  
'I'll be seeing you again, I expect?' the Dream Anne asked.  
  
'Of course, m'lady. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you,' replied the man, his voice strangely familiar.  
  
'Tomorrow... Meet me at the port. Father never sends his servants there, even on errands.'  
  
'You have my word, Miss Cormac.'  
  
'How many times must I tell you? Call me Anne.'  
  
'Perhaps a little persuasion will help, darling...' Anne laughed and stood on her toes, brushing a kiss on his lips.   
  
'Good night, dear sir,' she said, and walked down the path.   
  
'Good night, Anne,' whispered the man, and turned away. Light from a neighbouring house flashed across his face. Dark hair tied in a bandana, a tricorn cocked on his head, frayed blue coat and dusty boots... Jack Sparrow...  
  
Anne opened her eyes and glanced around her cabin. Oh God, what is happening to me? she thought. She turned on her side and felt the scratchy fabric of the pillow beneath her cheek. No good. Sleep was avoiding her, no matter how hard she tried to catch it. Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Scandalous, evil... but an idea all the same. She cursed the Devil for putting it in her mind, but it wouldn't go away. She got up from the cot...  
  
Jack had also been disturbed by a dream.  
  
He was back in a dirty prison cell, frantically trying to pick the lock with a yellowing bone. The real Jack was witnessing everything from a corner of the cell.  
  
'Please...' his dream self muttered. There was a noise, and he dropped back onto the ground. A person appeared, a hat perched over his forehead, and his shirt and breeches splotched with mud. Ah, this is where Will comes along, thought Jack.  
  
'You, Sparrow!' said the boy. The Dream Sparrow looked up.  
  
'Aye?'  
  
'You are familiar with that ship, the Black Pearl?'  
  
The other Jack studied his fingernails. 'I've heard of it.' The conversation went on, until Jack said, 'so you want to turn pirate yourself, is that it?'   
  
'Never!' the lad threw off his head, showing that he was not a boy at all, but a woman. Anne. 'It is because I love you, Jack Sparrow!' And then she dissolved into the blackness of his mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Anne crept up the hatchway and approached the door to the Captain's cabin. This is wrong, she thought. You can't just go barging in there! She slowly turned the handle. It opened easily. Damn, I was hoping it would be locked... Walking silently, as if possessed, she entered the room. Jack was snoring, lying on his back and clutching his pillow protectively. She stepped closer, watching his bare and tattooed upper body getting closer. She realized he was muttering to himself.  
  
"No... ye can't love me, Anne..." She stopped dead, petrified. What the hell-? Suddenly Jack grunted, and she could see his eyelids open. His eyes searched the room, and eventually stopped on her. He sat up quick as lightning.  
  
"What the hell are you doing in me cabin?!" he cried. Anne glared at him and crossed her arms.  
  
"If you must know, it's because my sleep was disrupted by YOU!" she shouted back, just as loudly.  
  
"What, was my snoring really that loud?" he chuckled, grinning. No, Anne pleaded, don't smile. Don't look that way...  
  
"No, it's because I had a dream about you!" she blurted out. He squinted at her, and his smile grew wider.  
  
"Is that so?" But, she couldn't help thinking, his amber eyes seemed to be distant. A pensive look crossed his face for a moment, but she blinked, and it was gone. Had she imagined it? "That's interesting, 'cause I had a dream about you too..." he muttered.   
  
"What?!"   
  
Jack leaned his head to the side and studied her.  
  
"Seems we've both been invadin' each other's sleep. Why is that, d'ye know?" he said.  
  
"I have no idea..." Anne replied. She had never dreampt about any man before, except for the nightmares about her father, after he cast her from his life...  
  
"I guess we both had the same thing on our minds, aye?" Jack mused, grinning. Anne sighed and gave him an I-don't-think-that-was-very-amusing look. He laughed again. "I'm only joking, love!" he said. She sighed, shaking her head. Jack stood up and walked the few short feet to where she stood. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.  
  
"Why did you REALLY come here, Anne?" he murmered. She gave no answer, but her face took on a new look. Was it anger, or was it that she was afraid? Afraid? Of what? he wondered. Of him? No, no one could be scared of Jack Sparrow!  
  
"I... I don't know," she finally whispered, and he barely heard it.   
  
"I trust you don't go barging into men's rooms very often, eh?" he said. The moonlight glinted on his gold and silver teeth.  
  
"No..." They were still locked in each other's eyes, her blue-green lost in his amber-brown. Jack felt himself touch her cheek, and slowly slide his hand under her hair, then lower his lips to hers. A shiver went down her spine, all the way down to her poor, tired feet. Anne slid her arms around his neck, and there they stood, not wanting to go on, but neither did they want to stop. I'm being taken over by Satan himself, thought Anne, as her skin seemed to burn under Jack's touch. Finally, he pulled away. She didn't know what to say. What could she say? The fiery Anne Bonny, a romantic? Never... or was she? Jack was confused by her silence. Most women either would have slugged him square in the jaw, or hopped right into his bed. She did neither. Was that good or bad?  
  
"Anne? Please, say something. I like knowing how other people feel," he said.   
  
"Jack, I think I'm being possessed by the Devil," she said seriously. Jack broke out in laughter, and barely could stop himself.   
  
"That's- that's ridiculous!" he said between chuckles. She glared at him and sniffled. "No, I didn't mean it that way, love! 'S just, if the Devil had taken ye over you wouldn't be standing there like that! You'd be, well, you know..." She only frowned.  
  
"You must understand something, Mr. Sparrow, I do not normally feel this way! I don't... lust over men, alright?" She said "lust" like it was a curse word.   
  
"I'm sure you don't."  
  
"So there's no other explanation!"   
  
"Maybe... maybe I'm just different than the other men you've met. I am a pirate, after all," Jack said, with half a smile.   
  
"Yes, I know very much about your reputation with women, Captain, and I know not to heed your sugar-coated words! Because I know if I do it'll lead me-"  
  
"To a 'roll in the hay'?" Jack offered. She nodded. "Well, you must admit, love, a very good roll it would be-"   
  
SMACK! Jack was thrown clear across the room. Anne huffed and walked out of the room, closing the door so hard the glass shattered.  
  
"I think I deserved that."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Ha ha! Anne is not a woman to cross, no matter how... completely irresistable Jack is... *sighs dreamily*  
  
Jack: Thank you, love  
  
Me: Oh, he he, Jack! You're still here!  
  
Jack: Aye, and I must say, excellent work!  
  
Me: Er... right, thank you.  
  
Jack: Took the words right out of my mouth, a roll in the-  
  
Me: Good bye, Jack! 


	9. Rhythm of the Waves

A/N: What did you think of my little bit of romance, eh? *wink* If you like the little lyrics I've put in at the beginnings of some of the chapters, go out and buy the CD's! They're both very good! "Watermark" and "The Memory of Trees" both by Enya. All lyrics by Roma Ryan, as I've said before. I might throw in some Loreena McKennitt as well, from "Book of Secrets." Read on!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Nine: Rhythm of the Waves  
  
'I did not believe  
  
Because I could not see  
  
Though you came to me in the night  
  
When the dawn seemed forever lost  
  
You showed me your love  
  
In the light of the stars.  
  
Breathe life into this feeble heart  
  
Lift this mortal veil of fear  
  
Take these crumbled hopes etched with tears  
  
We'll rise above these earthly cares.  
  
--"Dante's Prayer"  
  
By Loreena McKennit  
  
"Book of Secrets"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Awwk! Rise and shine! Rise and shine!" Anne slowly opened her eyes to meet the black gaze of a brightly-colored macaw. She sat up quickly and watched the bird hop around her cot. She swiped a hand at it and it flew out of her open door. She went and closed the door and pulled on her coat and shoes, and tied her hair up in the bandana, placing the hat carefully on her head. She left the cabin and went up to the deck. The crew were all busy working, but as she stepped into the sunlight they stared at her.  
  
"Mornin', Ms. Bonny!" shouted Gibbs. Anne gaped, surprised. "'S all right, miss, Jack told us." Oh, like that explains it, she thought. She saw Jack at the helm, and made no pretense to be quiet as she stomped up the stairs.  
  
"You told them?!" she cried. He turned and grinned.   
  
"Sure, why not? I figured it wouldn't be right if I went around gettin' cozy with a cabin boy, eh?" he laughed to himself at the thought.   
  
"I thought you said they would think a woman aboard is bad luck."  
  
"They do, but I had a word with 'em." Anne wondered exactly what word. Threats, probably.   
  
"As long as no bodily harm was done," she said.   
  
"Well...." Jack's smile widened.   
  
"I just want you to know I very much protest to your comment the other night!" Anne said, crossing her arms.  
  
"Which one, the one about my snores, or-"  
  
"You know very well which one I mean!" she snapped, not wanting the crew to overhear.  
  
"Ah, right. And I suppose I should apologize for your feelings for me too, eh?" he said quietly.   
  
"I do NOT have feelings for you!" Anne replied. His eyes, such dark eyes, searched hers.  
  
"Are you sure about that?"  
  
"You can't tell me you have any 'feelings' for me at all! I've heard the stories. Ten barmaids in one night-"  
  
"Now THAT was a lie," remarked Jack. "It was more like five..."  
  
"I can't stand you!" Anne groaned and prepared to leave. The Captain grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the side, by the rail.  
  
"Anne, look at me. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" he asked gently. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack intervened. "On second thought, don't answer that." Anne clenched her teeth together and glared at him, her body language stating very clearly whether the answer was 'yes' or 'no.'  
  
He sighed. What was a man to do? He pulled her to the wheel, and placed her hands upon it. She looked up at him, confused.  
  
"Do you feel that, Ms. Bonny?" he asked. Then he lay down on the deck and pulled her beside him, pressing her ear to the wooden boards. "Do you feel that? The Black Pearl is alive... It has its own heartbeat, its own rythm..." Anne felt like rolling her eyes. I think the Captain's had a little too much rum, she thought. But as she listened more closely, she could feel it. She could hear it,too. Maybe not a heartbeat, but... something. It might have been the sound of the water lapping against the keel of the ship.   
  
"I feel it!" she said. She closed her eyes and let herself relish the sound, letting it flow through her, inside her...  
  
"See?" murmered Jack. "All you have to do is listen." After a few minutes she stood up. Jack made her touch the wheel again.  
  
"Gibbs said you never let anyone else steer," she said. He put his hands over hers.  
  
"You aren't steering. I am," he replied. She could smell him as he put his head over her shoulder. At first it had revolted her. But the mixture of sweat and salt and sea air wasn't quite so bad anymore. It was said that no one could tame the wild beast. But, maybe, a Sparrow could.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Land ho!" Jack looked up from his spot at the helm, Anne beside him still. He couldn't help grinning as he saw the coastline draw nearer. Tortuga. It was good to be back. Many experiences he had had in that filthy island, both good and bad. His cheeks almost burned with the memory of the many slaps and punches he had endured.  
  
"Tortuga? I've heard stories... Sounds fascinating," said Anne.  
  
"I don't know if 'fascinating' is quite the word for it," remarked Jack.  
  
After they went ashore, he headed off for his favorite tavern, the Faithful Bride.   
  
"You are insufferable, you know that?" Anne said, as they walked in the door.  
  
"Gotta have me rum, Ms. Bonny," he replied. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Right... One of your three loves."  
  
"What was that?" Jack asked. She shrugged and sat down with him at a table. She noticed that the Captain got many admiring glances (Though slightly more loathing ones). He hailed a barmaid and asked for two glasses of rum.  
  
"Why'd you get one for me? I don't drink," she said. He grinned and propped his feet on the table.  
  
"You've gotta try it sometime, love. Might as well be now," Jack replied. The barmaid put the drinks on the table, smiled at Jack (Anne rolled her eyes) and went off. Anne glared at the glass as if it had insulted her. Slowly, she grabbed it in her hand and pressed it to her lips. Much like Jack's reaction to tea, she spit it out. Except, this time, Jack got a faceful. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and laughed.  
  
"It's pretty shocking the first time, trust me," he said. Anne took another sip, keeping it in this time.  
  
"Not bad," she said. Jack nodded in approval. Anne took another swig. It wasn't long before she had finished the glass. Then she ordered another. In fact, she was draining her third when Jack said:  
  
"I s'pect it's time ta go, Anne," and he stood up. Anne unsteadily got to her feet, but almost fell over again. He grabbed her and helped her walk. "Don't think you should have drunk so much," he said. Anne shook her head.  
  
"Naaahh, I feeel fine," she slurred, sounding an awful lot like him on his rum-drinking days. Which was every day, actually.  
  
"Come on, Ms. Bonny, we best be getting you back to the ship," Jack replied, and escorted her down the street.  
  
"Ya know, Jack, I can sorta understand why ye always talk so funny. It's 'cause you drink a lot," she said, giggling, and blabbed a lot more nonsense. When they finally did get to the dock, he stopped and let go of her.   
  
"Just look at those stars, Anne. There's one thing Gibbs was wrong about. I have four loves. Me last one's the sky," said Jack, as he looked Heavenward. That's when he heard a splash beside him.   
  
"Anne?" He looked down at the water, and caught a glimpse of reddish hair below the surface. "Bloody woman'll be the death of me!" and he dove in after her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Don't worry, there'll be some blood and gore in the future for all you non-romantics! 


	10. Fall of the Nightingale

A/N: There'll be a bit more action in this chapter. Not THAT kind of action! Honestly, some people! And for my first reviewer, Midnightingale, I'm naming a ship after you. And my chapter title. See what you get for reviewing?  
  
A/N #2: Just in case anyone is wondering, AnaMaria had taken her share of the booty from Isla de Muerta and departed with some of the crew on a new ship that she commandeered at Tortuga before they reached New Providence. I hope that clears up the fact that she's not in this story.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Ten: Fall of the Nightingale  
  
'Forever searching; never right, I am lost  
  
In oceans of night.  
  
Forever hoping I can find memories.  
  
Those memories I left behind.'  
  
--Lyrics from "Evening Falls"  
  
Enya  
  
"Watermark"  
  
Anne opened her eyes to find dark amber ones staring into hers. She coughed and sat up.   
  
"I told you not to drink the rum so quick, love," said Jack.   
  
"I guess you were right. Never having that again," she said. Her skull was aflame with a headache and her limbs felt like lead. "Ugh.. Why do I feel so sick?"  
  
"That is called a hangover," he said matter-of-factly. Anne tried to stand up. Big mistake. She fell back down on the cot and groaned.   
  
"I can see why they call it that," she said. Jack rose and went to the window.   
  
"You're lucky I was there. You fell right off the dock, and I had to go in after ye."   
  
"Thank you, but I don't need anyone's help. Much less yours," she said.   
  
"If you say so. I'll be on deck if you need anything. Send Cotton up."   
  
"Cotton?" He pointed out the parrot that was perched on the back of a chair. He bowed and left the cabin. Anne closed her eyes and slept.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jack stood at the helm, bellowing orders as they approached a British sloop.   
  
"Pull up the Union Jack, Gibbs! Larkins, bring out all the canvas!" He pulled out his spyglass and held it up. The Black Pearl was gaining on the small ship, and he could see the name, the Nightingale. He put the glass away and bade the crew to go below deck, and wait for his signal. He stood tall and waited as the Nightingale came up alongside.  
  
"Ahoy there!" came a call from the other ship. "What be your business this hour?"  
  
"Every man's business is his own, my good man!" he replied. He could see the red-coat across from him hailing his crew. Apparently he was a captain.   
  
"Are you a friend to His Majesty?" asked the Nightingale's Captain.  
  
"Ah, I suppose you can call it that," answered Jack.   
  
"May I ask to see your marque of permission?" said the soldier. Jack shifted his weight and gave a look to Gibbs, who had come back up to the desk. He pulled up the Jolly Roger alongside the Union Jack.   
  
"You see, mate? That is my marque," said Jack, pointing to the pirate flag. The red-coat turned a color resembling cold porridge, and shouted something to his crew. Jack pulled out his pistol (newly loaded) and shot at the Nightingale. His bullet whizzed barely half an inch past the other Captain's head. All the rest of Jack's crew (minus Anne) rushed on-deck and drew their cutlasses.   
  
"Men! Prepare to board!" ordered Jack. They shot grappling hooks over to the other ship and swung over, Jack being the last. The crew of the Nightingale was outnumbered ten-to-one. Jack impaled one of the officers, removed his blade, and wiped it on the dead man's coat. He noticed Cotton's bird flying above the battle, and he looked over at the Black Pearl. Anne was standing there, watching them. No, not now, he thought. Gibbs and Larkins were fighting three of the soldiers, and Jack set out to find the Captain. He found the man huddled in his cabin, trying to pick up a keg of gunpowder. Jack pointed his pistol at him.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, mate," he said. The red-coat dropped the keg, and his face went from porridge-white to a sickly green.   
  
"What are your terms, sir?" said the Captain. Jack considered for a moment.  
  
"We get your gold and supplies, and you and your crew will not be harmed," he said. He never wanted to make blood-shed unless there was a reason to. Jack was a negotiating kind of man.  
  
"A-agreed," stuttered the red-coat. They shook hands, and Jack went with the Captain back to the deck. The crew of the sloop was standing in a line, unarmed. Jack's crew was standing guard. They took the barrels and crates (Jack grabbed a keg of the finest British rum) and went back to the Pearl.   
  
Jack went over to Anne. She was staring at the other ship and made no comment.  
  
"Got some more swag for us," he said. Anne looked at him at last.  
  
"I've never seen piracy in action before," she said. Jack chuckled and put the keg in her arms. She buckled at the weight but lifted it again after a moment.  
  
"You aren't squeemish, are you?" asked Jack. She shook her head and went to put the keg in the hold. Jack followed her.  
  
"No, I can stand blood like any man." She put the rum barrel down and brushed her hair away from her face.  
  
"If so, then why were you lookin' so strange before?" he said. Anne looked up at him.  
  
"I knew one of the men who was killed."  
  
"Who was he, love?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Ah, well you'll just have to wait and see!  
  
Jack: That's not fair!  
  
Me: I know it's not. I hate cliffhangers myself.  
  
Jack: Then WHY did you put one in?  
  
Me: Because it makes everything so much more exciting. Don't you think?  
  
Jack: *grumble* 


	11. Miss Anne Remembers

A/N: This chapter contains some very serious material. I may be a bit light-hearted about it, putting humor in and everything, but I also don't want to be pushing the PG-13 rating.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter Eleven: Miss Anne Remembers  
  
'Athair ar Neamh. Dia linn  
  
Athair ar Neamh. Dia liom  
  
M'anam mo chroí, mo ghlóir,  
  
Moladh duit, a Dhia.  
  
Fada an lá, go sámh  
  
Fada an oích', gan ghruaim,  
  
Aoibhneas, áthas, grá,  
  
Moladh duit, a Dhia  
  
Móraim thú ó lá go lá.  
  
Móraim thú ó oích' go hoích'  
  
Athair ar Neamh, Dia linn  
  
Athair ar Neamh, Dia liom  
  
an ghealach, an ghrian, an ghaoth,  
  
moladh duit, a Dia.'  
  
--"Athair ar Neamh"  
  
Enya  
  
"The Memory of Trees"  
  
Irish Gaelic*  
  
"His name was Robert. He was...he was..." Anne put her head in her hands and let out a sigh of agitation.  
  
"He was what?"  
  
"Something's wrong with me, Captain Sparrow!" she announced, ignoring his question. Jack laughed softly but made no answer. "I'm feeling so... strange. I never would have cared before about death or blood, or love. But now I feel all these strange things."   
  
"Well, that's the thing about life, Anne. Sometimes you do feel... strange things." She absentmindedly rubbed the buckle of her shoe and didn't reply.   
  
"It was all so long ago. I was fourteen," she said after a moment. "It was winter, one of the coldest we'd had in years, back when I had a father, a home, a life..."  
  
**FLASHBACK**  
  
'Good morning, Miss Brennan!' Anne greeted her acquantance with a weak smile and a wave of her hand, using her other to pull the shawl closer around her shoulders and adjusting the wicker basket around her arm. 'What do you have today?' Anne gestured toward the basket, and the young man of sixteen approached her.   
  
'The same as usual, Mr. Wilson.' 'Usual' was two loaves of bread, a block of cheese, and a flask of mead for her father.  
  
'Please, call me Robert,' was his grinning reply. Anne smiled again, but she was busy pondering whether the baker would miss the shilling she had 'forgotten' to pay him.  
  
'Yes, of course... Robert.' She also was hoping she could get moving again. It was a thirty minute walk to her estate and she was cold. Her breath rose in wisps of vapor before her eyes. 'Was there anything else?' Robert shifted his weight from one foot to another, and when she looked up from adjusting her shawl again, she was surprised to see a strange look on his face. She couldn't place it. If she hadn't known better she would have said it was hunger. Strange, did he envy the food in her arms? Anne had several capable servants to do the shopping for her, but she rather liked doing it herself more, when she was in the mood to walk.   
  
'Oh, no, Anne, I...' His voice drifted off and his gaze drifted to the breath rising from her lips and the flush on her cheeks. 'You look entirely too cold for comfort.' Anne realized she was, indeed, shivering, and nodded.  
  
'Yes, Mi- I mean, Robert,' she replied.   
  
'My mother is cooking soup; would you like to have some? My house is only a block away, and it would warm you up,' he said, and there was no mistaking that look again. Ah, that was it, she thought, he wants the soup. She considered for only a moment, weighing the choices: she was cold, Robert's mother was making warm soup, and her father wasn't expecting her for another half hour.  
  
'Is it vegetable?'   
  
'Uh, what? Oh, I mean, yes. How lucky,' Robert said, peeling his eyes away from her, eh, curves. Not that she noticed. Anne was much too ignorant at that age.  
  
'Lead the way,' she said, smiling. Anne was gazing around her at the lovely snow-covered houses. So different from her large mansion. She also didn't notice that the young man's attention was STILL, in fact, not directed at her face. You see, Robert Wilson was a scheming, conniving rogue underneath his polite and gentleman-like exterior, and he had a plan forming in his blonde-covered head that was the most horrible of all. Because he felt something for Anne, he lusted for her at night on his pillow, and when a perfect opportunity sprung up, how could he resist? Poor Anne didn't know all of this, so when they did reach the house, she had not a clue as to his intention.  
  
'Welcome to the Wilson residence, Miss Brennan,' said Robert, and opened the door. It was not, in fact, his house, which may explain the fact that he was a soldier in the Royal Navy several years later, though he got his just reward in the end, at the hands of Jack's cutlass. Funny ol' world, innit?  
  
'This...?' She couldn't finish her statement however, because soon The Evil-Intentioned Mr. Wilson (TM) pinned her to the wall, causing her basket to fall and spoiling the good breakfast. 'WHAT THE HELL-?" She soon lost control of her mouth too, as The Evil-Intentioned Mr. Wilson was seeming to be most effectively sucking out all her air with his own lips. Oh, lovely, fell for the oldest trick in the book, Anne thought. Of course, eventually The Evil-Intentioned Mr. Wilson had to pause for breath, thank goodness, and she could put in a word.  
  
'-HAS COME INTO YOUR HEAD, BOY?' she finished her previous statement. Robert was now eying the part of her that was moving up and down from her unsteady breathing with interest, and smiled leacherously at her.  
  
'A very well-worked scheme, Miss Brennan, and it is, sincerely, my dearest pleasure, literally, to be able to share it with you, secretly.'  
  
'Honestly?'   
  
'I doubt I'm very honest; though, surely, it would be so much easier if you cooperated,' Robert said, slowly untying the knot in her shawl. What went through Anne's mind right then was like a flash of white-hot fire, anger and the desire to kick something that she had never had to such a degree before. Quite accurately, she kneed him in the crotch. Robert immediately let go of her, gasping. Anne kicked him to the ground, howling with rage.  
  
"I" Left Leg.   
  
"WILL" Right arm.  
  
"NOT" Left hand.  
  
"BE" Chin.  
  
"YOUR" Stomach.  
  
"PLEASURE!!!" Groin.  
  
By this time, The-No-Longer-Evil-Intentioned-But-Quite-Unlucky Mr. Wilson (TM) was breathless with pain, and Anne spent another few minutes making sure he wouldn't be able to lunge at her, nor move at all, when she turned her back. In fact, when she was finished, she was quite sure he had passed out. Served the fool right... When Anne was satisfied, she let out a sigh, retied her shawl, picked up her basket, blew a sarcastic kiss to Robert, and walked out the door.  
  
'Didn't even get any bloody soup...'  
  
**END OF FLASHBACK**  
  
By the time Anne was finished telling her story, Jack was wide-eyed and sweating. No, this was DEFINITELY not a woman to cross. Nope, not at all. He realized that Anne was breathing deeply, and was surprised to find tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them with her sleeve, but they kept coming.  
  
"Something amiss, love?" Jack asked. And then, for the second time that week, he found himself with a sobbing woman on his shoulder. Not something he was experienced with. Angry women, yes. After-Jack's-Blood women, hell yes. Dammit-I-wanna-tear-off-your-shirt-you're-so-sexy-Jack women, bloody hell yes! But not sobbing women. No lasses ever went crying to Jack Sparrow. He wasn't exactly the sensative type (as a certain Miss Elizabeth could tell you), and Anne might as well have been crying on a cactus, though Jack's shoulder was, perhaps, reasonably more comfortable.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter. I rewrote it about a zillion times! And all reviewers get a Jack-shoulder to cry on whenever they feel the 'need.' *wink* 


	12. Cirque du Musique

A/N: I hope my last chapter was alright. I rewrote it over and over and over... This chapter coincides a little with my other story, "By the Light of the Moon." If you haven't read it, I suggest you do. I'm going to change a few details, though.  
  
A/N#2: This chapter is dedicated to my love of music. The songs used are from Loreena McKennit, "Book of Secrets." There's no possible way to convey the sounds of the music through words, so it would be much better if you just buy the CD and listen to the songs, in this order: 1. (4) Marco Polo, 2. (2) The Mummers' Dance, 3. (6) La Serenissima. But you could also just use those download thingies to get the songs, I guess. Trust me, this chapter would be a hundred times better with music. Since I can't really picture what the mummers wore, I'm imagining them in those Elvish costumes from LOTR, bedecked with colorful ribbons and rags, and wearing feather eye masks. I've been picturing this chapter in my head for a long time, and I hope it turns out okay.  
  
Again, the lyrics were not written by me. The translation of "La Serenissima" is "The Most Serene One," referring to the city of Venice.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Chapter 12: Cirque du Musique  
  
The next few days passed without much excitement. Jack and Anne maintained a friendly acquaintance with each other; the crew, for the most part, gave Anne a wide berth; Gibbs continued to feed her little tidbits of information about Jack and listen to the Captain's nightly arguments with himself; and Cotton the parrot became Anne's adoptive pet.   
  
They made port at a small village in Hispaniola one cool evening a week after Anne had joined the crew. Jack and Anne were walking a bit behind the others. Anne was scowling at her first attempt at plundering, which had, unfortunately, failed miserably, and Jack had already found himself a good rum supply.  
  
"First time's a charm, love, as I always say," he said, patting her on the shoulder.  
  
"I'm no good at this pirating stuff, Captain, I might as well swab the decks the rest of my life," she replied bitterly. Jack swung around the rum bottle in his hand as he tried to convince her how entirely professional she really was. He had always been a good lier. Suddenly Anne stopped walking and he plowed right into her.  
  
"What?" She pointed into a clearing. The flickering light of a fire and the figures of a group of people could be seen through the bushes. Jack gazed interestedly at them, and then crept forward. Anne followed him. Suddenly music reached her ears: the beats of drums, clicking of castanets, the shrills of a viola, and the jolly melody of a mandola. A band of about a dozen played the tune as four pairs of men and women danced around the fire. The pair that caught Anne's attention were two women; one with blonde hair clad in a black mask and dress with white ribbons, and the other a mirror image with black hair, a white mask and dress, and black ribbons. The silk scarves in their hands and around their hair billowed out around them like clouds. Lanterns hung from the branches of the trees like glowing spider-webs.  
  
Jack and Anne sat down in front of the crowd of people that had come to watch the procession. As soon as they made themselves comfortable, they tuned in to the music. It had a strange Middle Eastern melody which made the listener instantly imagine camels riding across the Arabian desert. It also made one wish to dance.   
  
"Who are they?" Anne whispered to Jack.  
  
"I'm guessing they're a mumming band," he replied.  
  
"A what?"  
  
"Nomadic tree-worshippers."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Soon the song was over, and the dancing stopped. A middle-aged woman whom they supposed was the leader of the group began to speak. She had waist-length, curly red hair intertwined with small violet flowers, and wore a magnificent peacock-feather mask.  
  
"Thank you all for being our audience. I would like to have someone dance with us for our next song," she said. Her eyes scanned (or rather, they probably did even though no one could see them) the crowd, then landed on Anne.   
  
"You," she said, pointing at her with a lace-enshrouded finger, "come up here." Anne, quite embarrassed at that point, followed the woman over to a young man who was waiting for a partner. He wore a billowing green tunic and a green mask. The peacock woman slid a mask over Anne's face and gestured to her to take the man's hand, then disappeared into the woods behind them.   
  
"I can't dance," Anne blurted out to her partner. He chuckled and leaned in close to her to speak.  
  
"Just follow my lead. My name is Dominic, by the way, miss," he said, in an unmistakable Irish accent. Anne smiled to find out that he was from her homeland.  
  
"You're Irish," she said, and then wished she hadn't.  
  
"Aye. Celtic, actually." They could say no more, because that's when the music started. After a few notes from a viola, the African drums began. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo da. Da, doo-doo doo da... Anne looked around and saw the woman from before walking between the trees, her shadow falling in the lights of the lanterns. A single pluck from the cello started her song. It was an ancient celebration of spring, lyrics passed down through the families, until they were molded and fitted to their own unique form.  
  
"'When in the Springtime of the year,  
  
When the trees are crowned with leaves,  
  
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew,  
  
Are dressed in ribbons fair  
  
When owls call  
  
The breathless moon  
  
In the blue veil of the night,  
  
The shadows of the trees appear  
  
Amidst the lantern light...'"  
  
Dominic twirled Anne around him and they began to dance. The wind blew through the leaves, causing the fire to flicker.  
  
"'We've been rambling all the night  
  
And some time of this day,  
  
Now returning back again,  
  
We bring a garland gay.'"   
  
Jack sat, dividing his attention between the singer and Anne, who was laughing and spinning around with her partner, her hair flying around her face from beneath the bandanna.  
  
"'Who will go down to those shady groves  
  
And summon the shadows there,  
  
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms,  
  
In the Springtime of the year?  
  
The songs of the birds seem to fill the wood,  
  
That when the fiddler plays,  
  
All their voices can be heard  
  
Long past their woodland days..."  
  
Anne looked over Dominic's shoulder and saw Jack watching her, the firelight glistening in his dark eyes. She lost her step and stumbled, but soon regained her balance again and hoped that no one had noticed.   
  
"'We've been rambling all the night,  
  
And some time of this day,  
  
Now returning back again,  
  
We bring a garland gay.'"  
  
The singer knelt down in front of Jack and lay a string of white blossoms around his neck.  
  
"'And so they linked their hands and danced  
  
'Round in circles and in rows,  
  
And so the journey of the night descends,  
  
When all the shades are gone  
  
A garland gay we bring you here,  
  
And at your door we stand,  
  
It is a sprout well budded out  
  
The work of our Lord's hand.'"  
  
She stood back up and threw two handfuls of flowers into the crowd, and they rained down like multicolored jewels onto the heads of the bystanders.  
  
"'We've been rambling all the night,  
  
And some time of this day,  
  
And not returning back again,  
  
We bring a garland gay.'"  
  
Dominic twirled Anne around like a top, and she nearly collided with another dancer. She noticed that many of them held palm branches in their hands. The singer also began to dance, bringing Jack the impression of a spirit, as she stepped lightly on her feet and her voluminious blue-green gown spread out around her.  
  
"'We've been rambling all the night,  
  
And some time of this day,  
  
And not returning back again,  
  
We bring a garland gay.'"  
  
The viola and the drums slowly faded into silence, and the dancing stopped. Anne caught her breath, thanked her partner, and went to sit beside Jack again. There was a vacant expression on his face which was so unlike him she almost laughed, and could only be the by-product of deep thought.  
  
"Jack?" He jumped and blinked, and then seemed to realize that she was there. "What did you think?"  
  
"'S alright."  
  
"Nice flowers."  
  
"Thank you."   
  
Apparently the mummers were not done with their show, because the red-haired woman spoke to them again.  
  
"I would love to have a volunteer violinist to help us now, as our current one is in need of a break." She looked hopefully around at the audience, but, as Anne noticed, no one even stirred. Anne stayed where she was. She knew less about instruments than she knew about knitting. (And that wasn't very much.)  
  
"No one?" The woman looked back at the fiddler and opened her mouth to speak.  
  
"I can." Everyone turned to look at the man who had risen. Gypsy, or whatnot, by the looks of him, thought one man in the back. "I can play." Jack shifted from one foot to the other as he faced the woman, hoping to whatever gods there were that none of his crew were watching. He gave his coat and hat to Anne, and then took the violin from its owner. He ran his hand along its curves, and plucked at a string. He hadn't played in a long while; Lord only knew if he still remembered how. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought.  
  
"What should I play?" he asked.  
  
"Anything you wish, and we will go along with you," replied the woman, and she took a seat at a beautiful gilded harp with Gaelic inscriptions along the top. Jack rested his chin against the instrument and held the bow to the "A" string, waiting for inspiration to hit him. He had been to many countries and had heard many songs, but he wasn't sure of the exact notes. Suddenly a song came floating into his consciousness, from the blue waters of Venice. "La Serenissima", an old Italian hymn.  
  
He started playing, cautious and shaky at first, but then the harp joined him, and then a cello, double bass, and viola. Doo doo do do dee, da doo da do do dae... The melody was haunting and beautiful, and it curled and swept through the clearing like wisps of smoke, touching every person with gentle fingers. As Jack played his mind drifted back to his mother and how she had given him his first violin when he was eight.   
  
'The difference between a fiddle and a violin,' she had instructed, 'is that fiddles are played quickly and are often used for folk songs.' As he became more accustomed to the music, his fingers moved more quickly on the strings, jumping from "E" to "D" to "A." The bow moved swiftly and surely, knowing its agenda and not faltering.   
  
Anne was befuddled by this new discovery. Who in their WILDEST imagination would have guessed that Jack Sparrow could play a musical instrument? Especially one as hard as the violin. Jack seemed to know what he was doing, too. His face held a look of extreme concentration. His wrist was even moving in expert vibrato.  
  
Eeeeeeeeee, eeeeeee EEE ah-ah-eeee, the violin sang, ahhh-eee ahh. With the last pluck of the harp and ring of the cello, the song ended. Jack handed the instrument back to its owner, shook his hand, and turned back to loud applause from the crowd. Anne brushed the tears from her eyes and stood up.  
  
"That was wonderful," she said.  
  
"Ah, well, you know..." Jack replied, not looking right at her. He was slightly embarrassed to admit that the great Jack Sparrow could play a feminine instrument like that. But Anne did know, and she was beginning to see a new side of him that not many people knew about.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: *sigh* I love those songs. I listened to them about twenty times each until I really got into the 'feeling.' Writing to music is fun, but very hard. This chapter took a long time. Like I said before, it would be a lot better if you had the CD to listen to. But I know that not everyone has the same taste in music as me. I made Riona and Dominic Irish mostly as a celebration of 25% of my background. For Dominic, I'm imagining a Colin Farrell-ish appearance. He is the only guy who can compare with Jack Sparrow on the Hotness scale. Hee hee. I also watched the "Riverdance" video that my Irish great-grandmother gave to my mom. Very interesting. I think that's how I imagine them dancing. The amount of research that went into this chapter was unbelievable...  
  
A/N #2: I made Jack play the violin mostly because I thought it would be neat to have him do something so out-of-character like that. Think about it, maybe that's what helped him with his sword-fighting rhythm. I do play the violin, and it is a very hard instrument. Your fingers have to be in the EXACT spot, or your notes don't turn out right. Vibrato is when you move the wrist of your left hand (the one you press on the strings with) back and forth very quickly. It's difficult to do for some people, and tiring after a while. But it makes the notes sound prettier. That's why it's called vibrato, you know, "vibrate." Ah, don't you just love these music lessons? But no one loves long author's notes, so please, review! And tell me if you play an instrument or if you've heard the songs on here. Or if you're Irish! =) 


End file.
